Night Terrors
by TeddyBear98
Summary: Barry sleepwalks. Oliver doesn't like it. (request)


**Author's Note:** Hey everyone! This is another request from the lovely WolfKomoki, who always has the best ideas! I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you guys enjoy reading it just as much! :) Also, just **heads up:** I've said it before in other pieces, but I do not watch Arrow. All i know about Oliver is from crossovers and such, so I really tried my best to get his character right, but I apologize if he seems somewhat OOC or if some details with him seem off.

Takes place during Season 2, shortly after Henry is killed by Zoom

* * *

Being a mayor was no easy feat – particularly when paired with all of the complications of being Star City's resident vigilante. That being said, Oliver Queen was a very busy man. He still dropped everything and made the 600 mile journey to Central City as soon as the news of Henry Allen's murder reached him.

The Green Arrow didn't know much about what had been going on in Central. He had been aware that Barry and the team had been facing a new speedster villain of some sort, and that the fight hadn't exactly been easy. But him and his team had his own issues to deal with, and he hadn't been able to interfere. The death of Barry's father, however, was a game changer. He knew the younger man would be crushed.

And that was how he found himself sitting on the couch in the living room of the West household, barely a week after the incident. Barry was on the opposite side, staring at the television screen numbly. Oliver wasn't sure exactly what was playing, but he wasn't paying much attention to it; he was positive that Barry wasn't, either. The man had made it into the city that morning, and he had volunteered for Barry duty so that Joe could get some food shopping done and Iris could talk to her boss about taking some time off from work.

"This seems like a pretty nerdy show," Oliver commented after a long while of silence, attempting to break the barrier between the two of them, to talk about anything, _anything_ besides his father. Because God, when he lost his own father, the last thing he wanted to do was talk about it. Not that he had many options of people to discuss the matter with, anyways.

"Oliver, don't," Barry said with little inflection, running a hand over his face and closing his eyes momentarily. Clearly, he knew what Oliver was doing, and he was in no mood for small talk.

"Barry –" Oliver began, but Barry shook his head, standing up, not meeting his friend's eyes.

"I'm going to bed," he muttered, taking long strides and disappearing quickly up the stairs. Oliver sighed, grabbing the remote and switching the channel on the TV. It was only 8:00. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Oliver was still sitting by himself on the couch nearly an hour later when he heard the scream. He was on his feet immediately and had his bow situated in seconds, taking the stairs two at a time to get to Barry's room, because where _else_ would it be coming from? When he flung the door open, he didn't quite know what to expect – but it was not to see Barry standing alone in the middle of the room, his back to him, shoulders moving up and down as he panted. A quick visual scan of the room confirmed that no one else was there but him and the speedster, and the Green Arrow's eyebrows furrowed, his weapon lowering cautiously upon not seeing any threats.

"Barry?" he questioned. He took a step forward, and was promptly pressed against the wall by a jarring gust of air as the younger man sped out of the room, leaving Oliver blinking spots out of his eyes from the bright flash of lightning in the close proximity. But even as he worked on clearing his vision, he wasted no time jogging in the direction that Barry had gone, back down the stairs. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he damn well wasn't going to leave his grieving friend to his own devices after a display like that.

"Barry?" Oliver called, not seeing him once back on the ground floor, his ears strained to pick up any sound that would indicate where the speedster had gone.

He didn't have to wait long.

Oliver was on the move again upon hearing the anguished shout from below him. The basement. Despite his years of training, the vigilante nearly stumbled down the stairs in his haste to reach Barry, coming to a stop a few paces from the last step as he spotted the young hero once more. He was breathing heavily still, trembling, his eyes wide and face full of what Oliver could only identify as sheer terror as he stared at the wall in front of him.

"Barry," he tried for the third time, his voice carrying an unusual gentleness as he carefully began to approach him. Barry didn't answer, and as Oliver got close enough, he could see the glassy, unfocused look in his eyes. And he froze in his place, unsure of how to proceed as it became suddenly clear to him what was happening.

Barry wasn't awake.

He was sleepwalking. Or…sleeprunning? Sleep something. He didn't know what to call it, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. Oliver sucked in a breath and ran a hand through his hair. He knew how to handle torture, survival – _killing,_ for God's sake. But this? He had no idea how to handle this, and he found himself wishing that Joe and Iris were still at the house. His thoughts were interrupted by another ear-splitting scream from Barry.

" _NO!"_ he yelled miserably, and suddenly he was rushing at the wall in a flurry of speed-induced action, punching and kicking.

Despite his reservations on how to deal with the situation, Oliver found himself rushing forward and wrapping his arms around his friend in a bear hug, pulling him forcefully away from cement surface before he could injure himself. The speedster flailed wildly in his arms, struggling to escape, letting out a guttural howl that sent a pang through Oliver's heart.

"Barry, stop it!" he tried. "It's Oliver, you're fine! Snap out of it!" His words didn't seem to have any effect on the speedster, who continued to thrash in his arms, his body trembling harder –

No, not trembling, Oliver realized. Barry was vibrating now, an attempt to phase himself out of his arms and move forward. He drew in a sharp breath; this wasn't working, and he couldn't let it continue. He let Barry go, and in a split-second decision that he was sure was probably the exact opposite of any methods he should have used, he turned the CSI sharply around and cracked his palm against his face in a harsh slap. The sound echoed in the empty basement, almost causing Oliver to wince, and Barry fell backwards several feet with a yelp, landing on his back on the cold floor.

For several tense seconds, Oliver stood rigid where he was, watching the downed speedster to see what would happen next, if it had worked. Barry drew in a sharp breath, pressing a hand slowly to his cheek where a red handprint stood out. He blinked dazedly, taking in his surroundings before looking up at Oliver bewilderedly. His eyebrows knit together.

"Oliver?" he asked confusedly, lowering his hand after a moment. "What did – what just happened? Why are we in the basement?"

Oliver let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief, taking a step forward and offering a hand down to Barry, who continued to stare disorientedly at him for several more seconds before grabbing it. The older man yanked him to his feet, putting a hand briefly on his shoulder to be sure he was steady before withdrawing it. Barry blinked hard, eyes flicking back and forth across the room as if trying to deduce for himself what had just transpired.

"You were sleepwalking, Barry," Oliver said bluntly, though kept his tone even and still as gentle as he could. Barry's eyes widened, and his face flushed bright red.

"Oh," he said simply, suddenly seeming to decide that the floor was the best thing to look at, completely avoiding looking at Oliver anymore in his clear embarrassment. The Green Arrow place a strong hand on Barry's shoulder, and the CSI flinched the slightest bit.

"Let's go back upstairs," Oliver said, keeping his words simple as well, refraining from saying anything else about Barry's episode. Barry nodded, eyes still downcast and face still burning as he scrambled back up the stairs, Oliver right behind him. The speedster made a beeline for the couch, firmly planting himself back in the same position he had been in before leaving to go upstairs nearly an hour ago, staring dead ahead at the TV Oliver hadn't bothered to shut off before going to check on him. Oliver reclaimed his own seat as well, and the pair sat in silence for a good ten minutes before either decided to speak.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of, Barry." Oliver was the first to break the ice, though kept his gaze steady on the television, not wanting to cause his friend any more unnecessary distress. Barry took his time with a reply, the silence stretching on once again for another minute before his voice was heard.

"It happened after my mother died," he said finally, barely above a whisper. "I just – I didn't think…"

"That it'd happen again?" Oliver asked, still keeping his eyes fixed on the screen in front of him.

"...yeah," came Barry's voice again after a brief hesitance.

"Everyone deals with grief in different ways," Oliver replied, finally slowly looking over in his direction. The red blush on the speedster's face was slowly fading, and he finally allowed his eyes to meet Oliver's as he felt him looking over.

"Are you gonna tell Joe and Iris?" he asked instead of addressing the issue head on, a slight nervous tone in his voice, and Oliver shook his head.

"Not if you don't want me to," he said seriously. "But they should know," he added. "You could have gotten yourself hurt."

Barry glanced down at his hands then, as if just noticing the bruising on his knuckles. They would heal within the hour, but it made him uneasy to think what might have happened if Oliver hadn't done whatever he did, stopped whatever he had been doing.

"I'll tell them," the speedster replied, mouth dry, and Oliver nodded once, the matter settled.

"Thank you," Barry blurted out after another few seconds of no talking, picking at the hem of his shirt. "For – whatever you did. For stopping me," and Oliver nodded again.

"You'll get better, Barry," he said, and Barry could sense the double meaning behind the words, knew he meant it in more ways than just one; it was his turn to nod.

"Yeah," he said quietly, and hoped that his friend was right. The two men fell back into silence, both staring at the TV once more. It wasn't for another half hour that they heard a door closing out in the driveway, signalling that either Joe or Iris was back.

"I can go," Oliver said as he heard the footsteps approaching the door.

"You can stay," Barry rebutted, and offered him the smallest of smiles. And Oliver offered a rare smile of his own in return.

Because it wasn't much, but it was a start.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** So, hope that was pleasing for you all! I actually did some research on parasomnia/sleep terrors/sleepwalking to make this more factual, and it was quite interesting to write about! Turns out someone can actually burst out of their bed and run around the house during a sleep terror, and it isn't uncommon to have violent actions when that occurs, which I incorporated.

I hope it was clear what kind of nightmare Barry was having during his sleepwalking episode, but in case anyone didn't catch on, he was seeing his father's death and attempting to stop it. Kind of sad, yet I still enjoyed writing this. Thanks again to WolfKomoki for requesting! :)


End file.
